Naked Daisies
by PetitPoignet
Summary: Mother and Daughter problems. Cancer. Betrayal. Hurt. Drama.
1. Chapter 1

My sarcasm never got me any place worth being, but where I am sucks. But, sometimes you just have to count your petals.

"It's not a wedding, Samantha." My mother pounds her hand o the table.

"Thanks for reminding I'll never have one those either."

I wait for her to say, "_You don't know that yet."_

But, like always, she doesn't. She misses the moment. I grab my car keys from the kitchen counter and head towards the door.

"I don't know of a man that could handle you anyways." My mother says putting her hands on her hips.

"Like mother, like daughter." I throw my hands in the air and slam the door behind me.

I knew that I had hurt her, and I just didn't care. I get in my car and peel out of the driveway.

_Cancer. That one word courses through my head and maybe my body. Sharp pains sift through the smallest threads of me as I flip through the stations, searching desperately for a song that could calm me down. Frustrated with the nonsense coming through the speakers, I switch on a CD of Imaginary by Evanescence. Maybe this will calm me down._

"In my field of paper flowers/ And candy clouds of lullaby/ I lay inside myself for hours/ And watch my purple sky fly over me"

_Something catches my eye. A young girl, couldn't more than 2 or 3 years old, wearing a beautiful white summer dress and curly red locks bouncing around runs and picks a few flowers blooming next to the Lexington and Lincoln Street sign and runs them over to her mother who was radiant and still young at heart. Maybe this was her first child. The mother embraces her. I wonder then, if my mother and I ever shared anything so beautiful. I drive by this same everyday, why haven't I ever noticed this? This small piece of hope and painful reminder just questions everything even more so than I already am. What's wrong with me? My grades are great, I'm usually obedient, I… I just can't process it… _

"I bet she's anorexic." The high school girl's whispers slither through the air and invade my thoughts of being different, of what stuck up; self absorbed little girls say when they have nothing else to do but drink slimfast at the mall and gossip about everyone that walks by. I should tell you, that I've never been afraid if tight spaces, of elevators, of confronting someone, and of being opinionated. But this time is different; this loneliness, this pain, this life. This darkness is concrete. I can feel it, smell it, and taste it; closing in around me. Suffocating me so that I don't even hear those girls. I'm just tired. I turn into my Latin class and take a seat and not far behind me, Katie skips cheerfully into the classroom and sits in her usual seat next to me. She radiates happiness and her happy-go-lucky attitude reminds me of myself several weeks ago.

"Hey!" she says in her cheery voice. I turn and take a breath to speak to her and then I realize, she wasn't talking to me. She was talking to another girl, Angela. Completely embarrassed, I turn around and fumble in my purse. As much as I'm against eavesdropping I couldn't help but listen to their conversation.

"I am so pumped about prom!" Katie shrilled playing with her hair.

"Me too! We have to go dress shopping together!" Angela opened her Vera Bradley notebook on her desk. I could not believe what I was hearing. Even Katie, my best friend, was replacing me. When the bell for my last class finally rings I rush to my car hoping to avoid Katie. I get in my car and as I open the door I hear Katie.

"Sam!" She ran towards my car across the parking lot. I pretend that I can't hear her and shut the door physically and emotionally. I put my head on the steering wheel for 3 seconds, then start the ignition as she is still crossing the lot.

I drive home and see my mother's cruiser in the driveway. "_She's not supposed to be home 'til 3?"_ I thought to myself shifting the car into park. I get out of my car and walk inside and see her sitting at the table doing paperwork.

"What's all that?" I said letting my book bag hit the floor and tossing my keys in the basket.

"Just taking care of financial business for the upcoming years." She said fumbling through a pile of papers.

"By upcoming years you mean my death?"

"Not right now, Sam." She made no eye contact.

Every sensible part of my being was overcome with rage. My entire body burning hot and turning my skin red. "I'm not dead yet!" I scream and throw all the neatly organized papers into a storm flying about the room. "Samantha Madison what the hell has gotten into you?!" She stands up and gets in my face screaming.

"Cancer! That's what's gotten into me! Everyone's putting me in my damn grave while I'm still breathing." Tears streaming profusely down my face.

"Get a hold of yourself Samantha! Just calm down!" She runs her fingers through her hair, picks up the papers, and sighs heavily. I wait for her to leave those papers; her eyes spill over with tears, embrace me, and tell me "_I love you, Samantha_." But she doesn't, and again, she misses the moment.

"I need to get out. Clear my head." I said breathing heavily and confused, lost look on my face. I snatched the credit card off the table and grabbed from keys from the basket and bolted out the door. That's the only thing I can do. Run. What else is there for me?

I'm not afraid to face the truth. I could die. Katie is going to find a new best friend. My mother will go on picking up papers, or whatever at the kitchen table. I will never live the life I wanted. Why wait for death to come to me? At least his arms were wide open for me to run straight into. I grab my keys and whip out of the drive way.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm not afraid to face the truth. I could die of leukemia. Eventually, I'll have to shave my head. I could survive leukemia but either way, I won't have children. I'll miss both proms. I'll spend most of my life sitting in the doctor's office while my friends are getting their degrees and starting families. I will become the lonely like the last fallen leaf. I want to tell Katie but she is going to find a new best friend. I want to tell my mother, but I know she won't care. My mother will go on picking up papers, or whatever at the kitchen table. I will never live the life I wanted. Why wait for death to come to me? At least his arms were wide open for me to run straight into. I grab my keys and whip out of the drive way on my way to the doctor's office to get some blood work done and pay a co-pay.

I tossed the credit card in the passenger seat and noticed a note wrapped around the card. "I think it's time for some answers." in my mother's hand writing. My heart rate sped up. I reached to turn on the radio out of habit but stopped myself; the noise would be a distraction. What does this note mean? Is there some big secret I've been missing out on? Is this about my father?

Once upon a time, I had a happy family, until my father left. Nothing ever lasts. I can't say I blame him. Mom's hated me ever since. I disappointed her when I didn't want to cheerlead, when she bought me the pink dress she liked instead of the blue dress that I wanted, when I made Spaghetti for dinner and she didn't eat because she wanted Chicken Alfredo, when I got my got ears pierced instead of my cartilage because she didn't like it, when she had to run me back and forth to daycare and I interrupted her work schedule.

I'm the everyday reminder of him. I don't remember him, and the pictures of him are hidden somewhere. Maybe I'll find them someday. The phrase, "You're just like your father." comes up in daily conversation. And then I think, if I'm really like my father, I'll leave her too, someday. I think she has to love me somewhat, if she kept me and raised me. Right?

After I park my car I go to sit in the waiting room. The strange antiseptic scent makes my nose cringe. The faint tapping of feet across the tile is the only sound, chills cover my body from the cold, and the only person around is the receptionist sitting behind the glass door. Everyone here knows that I have leukemia now but I want to pretend that I'm here for a usual check up, but I'm not. Another car pulled up behind mine. An older looking man gets out and makes his way toward the bench where I am. I start to dry my tears; but what I do I care what this stranger thinks? He doesn't even know me. The stranger sits next to me. He doesn't even double take, ugly young girl with make up streaming down her face, sitting beside him. He's a little bit taller than me, short curly brown hair with gray hairs coming in, green eyes and casually dressed but he carried an old pocket watch that ticked loudly. Strange seeing as he can just go buy a digital watch, but maybe it was and heirloom.


End file.
